Old Man Winter

Old Man Winter



After toiling away for years in various garage and home studios, Old Man Winter is unleashing its new sound into the rock/indie scene. A departure from OMW's early years, songs such as "Words Mean Nothing" and "Ghost" meld the controlled chaos of multiple rhythm changes and varying melodic tones with insane lyrics. This evolved sound has lead some to say Old Man Winter sounds eerily similar to Mold Bran Splinter.



Written By: Old Man Winter

The grave hole I've been skulkin' in
Is plagued with lead slugs.

Avulse my soul from
The down down down down down down down below.

Sheep, shorn and bred,
Tied to the dead.
It's not like I recall
The denouement.

The ghost lies ahead.

So you wanna get out?
Well, you're not going anywhere.
What? You wanna get out?
Well, you're not going anywhere.
(No no no no no no.)

I wanna get out!
Well, I'm not going anywhere.
Fuck, I gotta get out!
Well, I'm not going anywhere.

I've been a drag;
A silt-laden plow on the interstellar boulevard,
Demure and plain.
And though I've known provincial loam,
relentless clay, and maiden bone,
It's all dust washed away.

And I've seen a tragic face
Refined by an undulating monody.
A crying shame.
And so I spoke in pulsing tones
a question black, to which he groans,
"Hold your breath and say,
Say... say... say please, son!"

"Boy, you best figure out
What it means to talk like a slave."
I've been sold?! That's the price that I paid?!

"And boy, you best figure out
What it means to spark and decay."
I'll revive in the brine of the bay!

Words Mean Nothing

Written By: Old Man Winter

Fall into my world.
We're goin' all night,
take a girl.
(take a girl, take a girl).

Words mean nothing.

Skin is cold to touch.
I am finished,
hang her up.
(hang her up, hanger her up, hang her).

Words mean nothing.

Don't recalcitrate
against house rules.
(Adulate, copulate).

Words mean nothing.

So, you're here for love.
Well, we're tired of the old same old.
I wanted more.
Go lock the doors so noone escapes.

Now, hold back that scream.
I'm not listening, and that's air you'll need.
I'll crack a smile,
'Cause it's been a while since things went my way.


Written By: Old Man Winter

I've got western eyes.
Runnin' round with swinish pride.
Holdin' up my guns and fire'n.

I've got eastern eyes
sewn up in western guys.
Layin' low and set to strike.

Place me on an ocean;
I'll drain it dry.
Swearin' by the notion
that all is well and wise.
Baron von Black-Mushroom-Cloud,
burn those babies to the ground.
Carrion for th' damned to fry.

A drifter spouts the Lord's refrain
with shrill, didactic lilt; proclaim-
ing: "All your cries for wanton grace,
goodwill cast lavishly in rays
of holy light; for soldiers slain
to come back sacrosanct and chaste;

for souls built by volition,
delivered from perdition;
for faults to be forgiven;
for edified redemption -
they survived the ride but I
will not oblige a progeny of

primates playing with religion;
crusades based on superstition.
Don't claim this fate was divine vision.

my sake, I'm chasing relaxation;
sunbathed on the shores of Creation.
Go pray until you're red in the face."

Set List

Enough original material for 60 minutes.